Fuzzy Elf
by Iris Musicia
Summary: Set after "Mainstream"- what if Kurt had taken Kitty's advice and not worn his inducer to school? Kurtty friendship, possibly slight Kurt/Pietro slash. Rated T for fighting, R
1. Consideration

**Set after "Mainstream"—or whatever that episode is where the Brotherhood starts destroying the parking lot at the school and Kitty suggests to Kurt to reveal his true form. That moment is where this picks up.**

Standing at the bottom of the stairs surveying the damage the Brotherhood had caused, I felt a very bleak feeling of . . . _bleakness_, I guess. Slowly, people were looking around and their eyes finding us, standing there. A few stares were accusatory, but more and more people were clapping. I was actually surprised that there were people clapping. After all, we'd just revealed ourselves as mutants.

Kitty, standing on my left, was slowly smiling, her hand reaching mine and twining her fingers with my three, hidden by a hologram. Gradually, I felt a sense of euphoria building up until I smiled too. Aside, Kitty said to me,

"Why don't you show them the real you?" Lifting up my hand and indicating the holowatch. My euphoria bubble lessened the blow of this, but it still made my stomach twist. They wouldn't be clapping after the "real me" appeared suddenly. They'd wonder and become conspiratorial, and we'd lose our newfound and shaky trust the normal humans were giving us. But it was easier for Kitty to say something like that, because she didn't know what it felt like to feel inhuman because of an appearance. I was still _Homo sapiens sapiens_, like everybody else who stood there with me, but they'd prefer to think of me as a different breed of _demon_ or _monster_.

"I don't zink zey're ready for zat yet," I replied softly. Kitty seemed to understand and let my hand drop, keeping a hold of it though as she started smiling again. I continued to mull over it in my mind, though I smiled again as Professor X started to speak.

xXx

A few hours later, after we'd gotten back to the mansion, I was standing in front of my mirror, flicking my image inducer on and off, going from normal to mutated, human to de—elfin, harmless to threatening. I'd long ago given up wishing to be normal, I knew it wasn't happening, but I also knew it was why I clung so tightly to my image inducer. It gave me a chance to look and feel _normal_, to a degree, and that was my deepest desire, really.

Lying awake in bed that night, I was still thinking about my image inducer, chewing on what Kitty had said to me, among other things. Turning over onto my side uncomfortably, I brought my tail over my leg and ran my thumb over the barb a few times, staring at the blurred ghostly outline of the crescent moon hanging suspended behind my curtains. I readjusted to my other side restlessly, thankfulness that I hadn't revealed myself at the school bubbling up in my mind as I believed tomorrow was Friday, then a different type of thankfulness emerged, that tomorrow was Saturday.

Sighing annoyedly at my mind's activity, I resigned myself to the fact this would be yet another sleepless night. Would it be better to reveal myself on a Friday, and give everyone the weekend to calm down? Or would it be better to just start out on Monday with it, and do a whole week like that? Maybe I could appeal to my teachers first . . . no, that wouldn't work. Numerous dumb ideas ran through my head, each one being quashed quickly by the little bit of pessimist in me. I could always talk to the Professor about it.

As soon as the thought became formed, my mind started executing a conversation between us, with several different outcomes. Outcome 1:

Me: Professor, I'd like to stop wearing my image inducer to school now that mutants have been revealed.  
Professor: That's a very thoughtful thing for you to say, Kurt, and I believe it is a good idea, though you must understand the risks of what you would like to do.  
Me: I understand, Professor.  
Professor: I think you don't. Not fully. When you reveal yourself, there's no turning back. You've crossed the Rubicon, and it's on your head what happens after that. If it goes badly, the only alternatives are to have me erase their memories of you in your blue form or to move. Niether of which I would prefer.  
Me: So you're encouraging me, but saying it's a bad idea?  
Professor: In a nutshell, yes. You're old enough to make your own choices.

FAILURE.

Outcome 2:

Me: Professor, I'd like to stop wearing my image inducer to school now that mutants have been revealed.  
Professor: That is not a wise idea Kurt, and I highly discourage it.  
Me: Duly noted.

WIN.

Outcome 3:

Me: Professor, I'd like to stop wearing my image inducer to school now that mutants have been revealed.  
Professor: Yes, I believe it is a good time to do so.  
Me: Are you _sure_ about that?  
Professor: Absolutely, Kurt.

FAILURE.

See, my mind would chase itself in circles looking for rational conversations that led to the Professor discouraging me from doing it, sort of talking me down. I was subconsciously and somewhat consciously clinging to the safety a temperamental holowatch gave me, though a little bit of my conscious mind was saying, "Yes, go ahead and do it, thank God they're only high schoolers and won't come at you with pitchforks and torches."

And so the oxymoronically civil war raged on in my head, back and forth, well into the wee hours of the night, to use a poetic phrase. As if I hadn't done enough of that already. Sheesh. I felt like a philosopher, talking to myself like that.

The next morning I woke up infuriatingly on-time, around eight like I normally do, which gave me about thirty minutes of sleep. To use the understatement of the year, I was bone-dead-tired. Though I got up and went down to the kitchen and shoveled a bowl of cereal down my throat, too tired to even use grunts to communicate. Shortly after my last bite of cereal, I fell asleep, my face in the bowl that smelled like wheat dust and milk.

When I woke up, I was back in my room and the sun was nearly finished setting. My alarm clock told me it was just after six p.m. Somebody had been nice enough to not let me sleep in my cereal—though Kitty probably protested my skin could use the "soothing effects of the milk". I smiled as I just _saw _her saying that. I got out of bed and got dressed, heading to the kitchen, but nobody was there, so I backtracked to the rec. room and found everybody hanging out there.

"Hey, morning, sleepyhead," Kitty chuckled, looking up from her book, rather, looking sideways from her book, lying stretched out over the couch, her knees hooked over the arm. I smiled at her and she went back to her book, holding it up in a position that would make my arms fall asleep.

"I feel _so_ much better now," I said, walking over to where Evan was slamming the buttons around on a muted X-Box. He pressed pause and looked up at me.

"What kept you up so late?" he asked.

"Philosophy crap. My image inducer, really," I said, rummaging in the cupboard under the TV for another controller to plug in and play _Grand Theft Auto_ with Evan.

"Mm. Sucks, man. Wanna play a round of total destruction?" Evan asked, but I was two steps ahead, already pressing the resume button and taking over a car as Evan jumped and jammed his thumbs back onto the buttons. I smiled and bit my lip in concentration, then Evan laughed as he overtook me in the race.

Half an hour later, I 'ported down to the kitchen and found a snack. I finished chewing and 'ported to just outside the Professor's office, knocking before entering.

"Ah, hello, Kurt," he said, looking up from the newspaper and taking his reading glasses off, setting the evening paper on the desk.

"_Hallo_, Professor. I vos vondering if I could talk to you if you're not busy . . . ?" I asked sort of hesitantly. I was nervous, wondering which one of my outcomes this conversation would be. I found half of myself hoping dearly for outcome 2, with the other half wanting outcome 1 or 3.

"Sure, Kurt. Take a sit, if you want. What do you want to talk about?" The Professor steepled his fingers and looked at me.

"It vos somezing Keety said to me yesterday, after ze Brozzerhood messed up ze school parking lot. She said I should go to school vizout my image inducer. You know, 'show ze vorld ze real me' sort of zing," I said.

"So what are you saying, Kurt? That you'd like to discuss something with me?" the Professor asked.

"Yes. Vot's your opinion about . . . going to school vizout my image inducer? Good idea, bad idea?"

"Well, that's a very . . . compelling question. I take it you've thought this through rather thoroughly—and lost some sleep over it, so I've heard."

"_Ja._ I figured it vos because I've alvays vonted to look normal, feel normal, stuff like zat, and my image inducer is ze vay I look and feel normal, it makes me feel safe, and possibly ze reason I'm so freaked out over zis is because I feel like I'm giving up my safety if I turn my inducer off," I blurted, all in one breath, fighting to stay calm and not start, like, shouting.

"That's a very astute observation, Kurt, and I would have said the same thing. I also take it you know the risks of this course of action?" Professor X questioned.

"I-I . . . _ja_. If it goes over badly, I'd haff to . . . move, or . . . find a vay to cover it up somehow, or I vould have to come begging on hands and knees for you to erase zeir memories." The Professor chuckled.

"Oh, I'm not that mean, Kurt. But once again, you are right. You must have given this more time than I thought." I smiled awkwardly at the comment.

"So vhat are you saying?" I asked, trying to hide my eagerness. The Professor picked up on it and smiled gently.

"I believe you are a very intelligent young man, and can obviously think for yourself, and you may do what you please, though I highly caution you in this course of action. I would even go so far as to suggest a sort of "integration" method—you could transfer to smaller classes and let people get used to your true form, then go back to your more . . . _understanding . . ._ classes, one at a time, until you're back in your full classes." Professor X suggested, holding his hands out like he was weighing two things—my two choices.

"Zat's a really . . . smart idea Professor," I said, almost adding an "of course" in there, "and I vould love to say yes right here, however, I zink it vould be a . . . better idea to zink it over for a leetle vhile. Get back to you tomorrow?" I suggested.

"Go right ahead, Kurt. Take your time. I trust this has . . . helped you?"

"_Jawohl,_ Professor. Zank you," I said gratefully, walking out of the office and 'porting back to my room. I felt like a thousand pounds had been lifted off my shoulders, and I sighed with relief, falling onto my bed. I didn't feel so trapped any more, the Professor's suggestion giving me another way out—or, rather, around this problem.

Sure, the kids in my normal classes would talk, but let them, I'd be safer that way. I guessed it would take longer than I would probably expected, but I thought it really was a good idea. I stood up and 'ported back to the Professor's office.

"I'd like to do it. Ze option you suggested. It sounds really good," I blurted. The Professor set the newspaper down again and I got a little flash of déjà vu.

"Okay then, I'll make a call to the school administration as soon as I can and see what I can arrange. I'll tell you as soon as I know," the Professor replied. I grinned stupidly in some sort of relief.

"Zank you so much!" I 'ported out to the rec. room and pounced on Kitty, rolling her off the couch.

"Fuzzy Elf!" she yelped. I grinned in her face.

"I'm doing it! No inducer in school!"

"Nice!" she said, and I jumped off of her, up onto the couch as others heard and looked up from what they were doing. Scott flashed me a thumbs-up, Jean smiled at me, and Evan came over and pounded my back.

"Guts, man." He approved.

"Hope it goes well, Elf." Logan growled from behind his newspaper, the same one the Professor was undoubtedly reading right now.

"Same." Rogue affirmed, giving me a rare smirk.

I felt so excited, like I wanted to jump around like a crazy person screaming, I was so jittery. Instead, I started laughing. "Vow. I can't believe, I actually _vant_ to go to school."

"Yanno, Elf, if you wanna go catch a movie, to celebrate or whatever—" Logan started, but I cut him off.

"How about ze Danger Room?" I asked, grinning manically. It would be _easy_, like a big jungle gym, if I got Herr Logan to disable the lasers and electricity. "Could you set it for a normal training run, but disable ze lasers und ze electricity?" I asked, echoing my thoughts.

"Uh . . . yeah, I guess . . . hang on a moment." Logan put his papers down and walked with me to the Danger Room, the silence comfortable. We took the elevator up to the control room, but I couldn't contain myself and 'ported ahead, standing eagerly by the control panel. Logan pulled up the settings of the training run and modified them as I requested.

"All yours, Elf. I'm gonna head back, if that's okay with you?" Logan asked.

"Sure. Go ahead." I said, waving my hands in a "shoo" motion. Logan cocked an eyebrow, but left quietly. I 'ported back to my room and hurriedly changed into my uniform, then 'porting back to the Danger Room control room, pressing the green "start" button, and 'porting to the floor of the Danger Room as things started moving around me.

A couple walls popped up around me and I vaulted over them, taking a flying leap onto a tentacle that came out of the wall and using it as a point of leverage to flip higher into the air and cling to the wall, running along the curved surface and jumping onto another tentacle, clinging to it like a cowboy as it writhed and bucked. I whooped and 'ported back to the area of the floor with the walls, almost shrieking with laughter as a tentacle chased me through the maze of perpendicular walls. I backflipped onto the tentacle and ran along its length, but as the spinning blades came out of the walls, I pouted.

"Zat's not fun," I shouted to the room. Suddenly, the lights went out. "_Zat's_ better!" I yelled, laughing maniacally, blindly flipping backwards away from the air currents the spinning blades were generating.

"So you like it dark?" I heard Kitty's voice over the intercom, Rogue's snickering in the background.

"Eh? You? You can do better zan zat!" I shouted up at the middle of the room. Their laughs rang in my ears as fans in the walls of the room were activated, so I couldn't feel air currents any more. Now _this_ was fun. I ducked around a tentacle as I heard its low electric whine over the dull roar of the fans, reaching out for it and swinging up onto it, giving another cowboy-like whoop as I took one hand off the cold metal surface, raising it in the air. I could hear someone choking with laughter over the intercom.

The tentacle gave a particularly vicious jerk and I fell off, 'porting to the ground.

"Oh no you di'n't!" I shouted. "I may be from _Germany,_ but I know how to do _sass!_" I declared, snapping my fingers in a Z-pattern, wiggling my hips as I spun in a circle.

"E-elf, quit-t-t it!" one of the girls stammered, laughing uncontrollably. Obviously, they could see me. In that case . . .

"I vill _not!_ You! _Souzern belle! _Und you!_ Preety_ _Keety!_" I started strutting very stork-like forwards, but suddenly tripped in a dip in the floor and fell flat on my face. I think up in the control room they had sudden seizures and died.

I set my jaw and 'ported up to the control room, where both Kitty and Rogue were on the floor laughing silently so hard, tears were streaming down their faces. I looked at the panel and saw they had been recording me. The whole time. "Vow. Zat's _so_ pazetic. Really?" I nudged Rogue's side with my foot, causing her to burst out into loud laughter. I rolled my eyes but smiled, and poked Kitty in the side with my tail. She shrieked with laughter and gripped the control panel to struggle into a sitting position, Rogue following suit.

"Gawd, Kurt, I thought I was gonna _die_!" Rogue said.

"I zink you did, but had a miraculous recovery," I muttered jokingly.

"But we did tape you." Kitty said, pressing the "stop" button and catching a CD as it popped out of a slot in the panel. She grabbed a Sharpie from a nearby cup of pens and wrote "Kurt's freakout lmafao!" on it, waving it under my nose tauntingly.

"You're not . . . planning to . . . show zat to anybody . . . are you?" I asked slowly. Kitty smiled and held back her laughter.

"So what if I am?" she said.

"Keety!" I cried and leaped for the CD, but she let me phase through her and I landed on the floor, looking up at her. Verdammt. Forgot she could do that. She put her hand on Rogue's shoulder and waved the CD one last time before sinking through the floor. I shook my head and shut the Danger Room down, 'porting back to my room. My next plan of action?

Operation CD.

**Like? Dislike? Review either way! My first experiment with fluff with plot. Isn't that drabble? I don't know. Eh, well . . . *smiles* I had so much fun writing this!**


	2. Realization

**Oops! Sorry I forgot about the disclaimer in the first chapter, so here it is: Disclaimer: I don't own the X-Men.**

**This chapter is dedicated to 100 Silver Wings. Hope it makes you laugh again. :) Also, huge thanks to everyone who reviewed. Miss-Abigail123: you could consider this Kurtty friendship if you want to. :)**

I tapped my pencil against my chin thought carefully. So how would I execute my plan? I had to get my CD back. I bit my lip and the pencil eraser and paced up and down my room. Suddenly I stopped and sighed, falling onto my bed, only to jump back up. I got it! Quickly, I started scribbling down my plan on as many Post-it notes as I could get my hands and tail on.

Fifteen minutes later, after doing recon in the form of crawling along the ceiling into the rec. room and a few feet into Kitty and Rogue's room, trying to find the CD. I noticed Kitty had it in her laptop case, sitting in the rec. room. Slightly frustrated, I 'ported back to my room. My plan hinged on them going back to their room.

All of a sudden, I heard laughter from the rec. room. Yeah. It was that loud. I 'ported down to the rec. room let out a strangled cry as I saw what everyone was laughing at. Me. On Kitty's computer screen.

_Aw, schei—_ my brain started saying, but then I cut it off. I ran across the room and leaped at the laptop. Jean threw a sudden force field at me and I hit it facefirst. I tumbled to the floor and 'ported to sit on top of the table the laptop was balanced on and ripped the power cord out, 'porting away with it.

"_Kurt!"_ Kitty screeched, running into the same force field I had hit. Hurriedly apologizing, Jean took it down and they rushed after me. She hit me with a painless psionic blast that disabled my teleportation.

"Hey! Zat's not nice!" I shouted over my shoulder as Rogue lunged at me and I leapt up onto the wall, computer clutched in my tail. I scrambled onto the ceiling and pressed a bunch of buttons, which didn't do anything. I let a strangled screech as the laptop fell out of my grasp. Logan caught it and held it so everyone could see it just as the CD was getting to the "no you di'n't" part.

I dropped down onto Logan's shoulders and snatched the computer again, but as I went to jump off his shoulders, Evan grabbed my tail and kept me from moving, making me fall onto the ground.

"_The computer!"_ everyone shouted unanimously as it flew up into the air. Scott caught it at the last moment and I ripped my tail out of Evan's hands and slammed my finger onto the "eject" button and the CD came shooting out at me. It hit me in the nose and I cursed loudly as everybody dissolved into fits of laughter. I gathered myself and the remains of my pride up off the floor and tried to stalk haughtily out of the room.

Except haughty is impossible when there's about three different Post-it notes stuck to your feet and tail. Growling softly, I 'ported back to my room and repeatedly smashed my face into a pillow. I chucked the CD across the room and sat for the longest time with my face buried in my pillow, tail twitching irritatedly.

Suddenly, a noise came to my attention. I raised my head off the pillow and saw Kitty creeping around my room, hands in the "gun" formation, muttering the _Mission Impossible_ theme quietly. She did a quick tuck-and-roll and snatched up the CD.

"Sha-_zam!_" she declared, miming firing a few shots at me before doing another tuck-and-roll towards the wall. I kicked myself into action and leapt at her, and she laughed and phased through the wall, leaving her hand, holding the CD, stuck through the wall. I heard her laugh faintly and grabbed her hand, tickling her palm by sweeping my tail barb down her fingers. Her fingers convulsed around the CD and pulled through the wall.

Annoyed, I slammed my fist against the wall. Operation CD had failed. Epically. Now came plan B.

XXX

"Keety? Rogue? Let me in, please?" I asked pathetically, forehead resting against the warm wood of their door. I heard movement in the room and my tail twitched spasmodically. "_Bitte?"_

I stood there for another few moments before the door unexpectedly swung open and I staggered forward, running into Kitty, who stepped out of my way, looking amused, smiling broadly. As I fell to the ground and rolled over quickly, Kitty dropped the CD on my face, hitting my nose.

"_Gott im Himmel_, vill you _stop_ doing _zat!_" I cried, rubbing my nose as Kitty started laughing again. Rogue bit her lip to keep from laughing, sitting cross-legged on her bed with a small book. Kitty covered her mouth with her hand and sighed, then held a hand out. I accepted it gratefully and she hauled me upright. I snatched up the CD and stuffed it in my back pocket using my tail.

I kept a hold of Kitty's hand and tickled it again, making her giggle and phase her hand out of my grasp. "Zanks." I 'ported back to my room and took out the spare keys to the X-Van I had. Wielding the keys like a weapon, I made deep crossing gouges in the back of the CD, then threw it in the trash.

XXX

The next day, I spent an hour messing with my image inducer so that I had seven different outfits available to me, though I wouldn't really need it unless I went out into town. I'd spoken with the Professor again, and we'd come to the consensus that while I could get away with no inducer in school, I'd have to wear it around town, something I didn't mind at all.

On the whole, though, Sunday was very boring, though. Very boring indeed.

XXX

Monday morning, though, was the complete opposite of Sunday. I woke up two hours early and paced around my room a few hundred times, then went and took a shower, got dressed, and went and paced more. Then I felt the Professor touch my mind.

_Kurt, there's nothing to be that anxious about. I called yesterday and got everything sorted out. Your schedule is the same, except you've got new rooms. You have to go to the main office and talk to the secretary, and she'll give you your new room assignments. The classes are very small, for special students. Not special education students, special as in your sort of special._

_They're mutants?_ I wondered in a cohesive thought so the Professor could "hear" it easily.

_Not really. It's difficult to explain, but you'll see. Try to calm down, it will be fine, I assure you Kurt._

_Right, zank you, Professor._ I thought, and I felt him leave my mind. I really was _not_ reassured, and continued pacing, watching the minutes on my clock count up, feeling sick to my stomach, jittery. Not in a good way. Sighing heavily and rubbing my temples, I frowned at my reflection and turned my image inducer off, smiling at my real reflection.

I jumped and knocked a small dish of earrings over as an alarm in the room next door went off and somebody rolled out of bed. I scooped the spilled jewelry up with my tail, the dish with my hands, and put them back on the table in their proper place, realizing I'd forgotten to put my earring in. I always wore an earring in my left ear, though most of the time it was covered by the hologram. I wouldn't stop being myself just because I wasn't wearing a fancy watch.

Simple gold hoop in place in my left ear, I 'ported down to the kitchen and grabbed my backpack from the hall before pouring myself a bowl of cereal and chowing down, watching the doorway to the kitchen as I heard people thundering downstairs. Kitty came down first, finishing putting her necklace on.

"Nice earring, Kurt. New?" she asked conversationally. I swallowed my cereal.

"_Ja_. Figured I'd do somezing new for my, sorta first day of school." I answered, taking another bite. She nodded and found something for breakfast, eating at the counter as the rest of the X-Men came into the kitchen. I got a few other compliments about my earring before everyone finished and Scott offered a ride to school, which I accepted, along with everybody else.

"Uh, well . . . somebody's getting voted off the island. Any volunteers?" Scott announced. There was a dull hum as everyone thought about it.

"I know Jean's going, so that leaves three of us who can ride. Kurt should go, 'cause it's a big day for him; Evan, you go 'cause you're his best friend—" Kitty started reasoning, checking us off on her fingers

"And Kit, you go too, cause yer his best friend too. I can get a different ride." Rogue cut across her. Kitty looked like she was going to argue, but said:

"Thanks."

"Yeah, zanks, guys." I said, smiling at them. "But who are you going to get a ride from?" I asked Rogue.

"I don't think Logan woul' be to bothered." She answered nonchalantly as Logan walked in.

"It's only coz I owe you, Stripes." He growled, peeling a banana with one of his claws. Rogue grimaced at him and left, snatching up his helmet. I smiled at her as Logan shook his head exasperatedly, but I knew he'd put up with Rogue. Anything for Rogue.

"Let's go. Kurt, got your entourage?" Scott joked. I held my arms out and Kitty and Evan each took an arm. Evan's not gay. I've asked him. The only reason he took my arm was because he's used to it, and it's just the way I ask people to teleport with me. So quit freaking.

I nodded to Scott and 'ported out to the garage and waited for Jean and Scott to show up a minute later. I vaulted over the door into the backseat of the convertible and everybody got in the car in a more normal way, and as we left the garage, we saw Logan and Rogue roaring down the driveway on his bike ahead of us.

We got to school a few minutes later, Rogue making a small scene, and suddenly wanting to back out, turn my inducer on, and act like it was okay, no freaky de—elfin dude here. No fuzzy dude. Kitty suddenly gripped my arm, Evan held my tail (gently), and they stopped me from pressing the button. Scott drove around to the side of the school and let me teleport in to the building, an empty classroom near the main office that I could see into through a window. I took Kitty with me for moral support, and took the most person-free route to the main office that I could. I only saw one person, who didn't see me because they were drinking at the water fountain.

"I'm here to pick up a schedule for Kurt Wagner," I said in a low tone to the secretary. She looked at me oddly, but the Professor must have told her about me because she didn't say anything, just handed me a piece of paper with my new rooms on it. "Zanks."

"See? It wasn't that bad." Kitty said to me as we left the office and teleported down long stretches of hallway towards the back of the building. My tail , which I was fighting with to stay low, around my ankles, was trying to swish agitatedly back and forth, but I just held it as it hit the lockers with a rattling _clang_, nervously fingering the barb.

"Vot if—" I started.

"Kurt, don't think about "what if". Think about what is. Like, you know you're going to be great. The way you're acting you'd think you're going on trial for murder. Calm down, my Fuzzy Elf." Kitty said, leaning her head on my shoulder. I nodded and 'ported down another stretch of hallway and arrived outside the door to my new AP Bio room.

I clung to Kitty like she was my life preserver.

"Fuzzy Elf, you've got to let go. It's okay, you won't drown." Kitty said gently, prying my fingers off her arm. "Go on." She gave me a gentle push towards the door with an encouraging smile and a nod.

I suddenly felt like a child on the first day of kindergarten, not wanting to let go of their mother.

"Gotta go," Kitty said softly. I smiled shakily and fumbled around on the door for the handle, finally finding it and turning it, still hesitating. Kitty blew a kiss to me, which I caught and put on my cheek, turning and walking into the room, the door shutting behind me.

"Your girlfriend's really nice. What's her name?" A soft female voice asked. I looked to my left and saw a girl with really pale skin and dark red hair and a big baby bump. She didn't seem to care about the way I looked.

"Eh . . . she's not my girlfriend . . . but her name's Keety. You're not bozzered by . . . zis?" I waved my arms around, indicating my fur and tail and stuff. The girl shook her head.

"I like blue. It's my favorite color. My name's Kaylie. What's yours?" Kaylie asked.

"Kurt. Is zere anybody else in ze class?" I asked. Kaylie nodded.

"There's a desk over there that nobody sits in." Kaylie pointed at a desk over in the middle of the small rectangular room. "By the way: nice earring."

I smiled and went over to the desk Kaylie had pointed out, sitting down and wishing that _for the love of God_ this was not a class for pregnant girls. Thankfully, it wasn't. In a few minutes, the room filled up and Kaylie was the only pregnant girl. There was a guy who had a twisted face and couldn't talk right and drooled, a really quiet emo girl who had lots of cutting scars on her bare arms, another girl who needed a little machine sort of thing that she pressed to her throat to talk with, and a kid who was really smart, but had such huge self-esteem issues, he couldn't stand to be in a room with more than fifteen people. As the Professor had said, none of them were special-ed.

At least, not in the sense everybody uses it. I was now part of a group of kids that were known as the "troubled kids" or the "troublemakers" or "jr. special-ed". Three years of high school and I _never_ thought I'd end up here. Never.

"We have a new student in class today, everyone. His name is Kurt." The teacher said, motioning for me to stand up.

"Hey . . ." I said lamely. "I come from ze Xavier Institute . . . and I'm a mutant. If you vont to call me somezing, call me Elf." I sat back down quickly and ducked my head down. _Way to sound as useful as a horse with four broken legs, Elf. _ My internal monologue started up as the teacher started in on the lesson.

I found myself liking this class a _lot_ better than normal class. Because it was so small, she could pay more attention to each of us and we got to have these really cool discussions. There was no pressure to be "normal" by normal standards. It was a really relax-and-be-totally-yourself environment, and I felt just as normal as I did when I was hanging out with the rest of the X-Men.

When the bell rang, I jumped slightly, but passed it off as a fidget. I pulled out my schedule and saw my next class was practically on the other side of the school. I stood and shrugged my backpack up onto my shoulders and went to leave, relieved to find that not many kids came down the hall I was in. I 'ported to the end of the hall and looked back, seeing Kaylie smiling at me, giving me a thumbs-up. I smirked and 'ported to the far end of the next hall. I was so busy looking around to see if anybody had noticed me I didn't see where I was going and ran into somebody. Just as I tensed up to 'port, I heard a familiar voice.

"Relax, fuzzbutt. It's me." Pietro said, a slight scathing edge to his voice. "Look at you, big boy not hiding behind a watch anymore." He smirked infuriatingly.

"If I vere you I'd shut up now." I growled, trying to push past him, but he held out his arm and stopped me.

"Thing is, I'm not you. So I'm not shutting up." He said, looking down his nose at me like he was effin' royal. Then something caught his eye. "Finally admitting it, eh?"

I followed his gaze to my left shoulder and realized he was looking at my earring. Why was everybody so _Gott verdammt_ obsessed with my earring? !

"I vear vone every day. It gets hidden by my hologram." I said, eyeing Pietro's earring, in his left ear, which looked almost identical to mine. "You're not going . . . to ask me out or anyzing, are you?" I asked apprehensively.

"God, fuzzbutt! I may be gay, but that sure as _Hell_ doesn't mean I'm attracted to you." He said as if I had offended him. I let out a sigh of relief and succeeded in pushing past him and getting to my next class just as the bell rang. As I closed the door behind me, everybody stared. The class was bigger and I was getting that pitchforks-and-torches vibe from them. I sighed and took an open seat in the corner, and their eyes went back to the front of the room. Rubbing my temples as a headache started, I knew this was going to be a _long_ day.

XXX

XXX

**Hmm . . . I feel like for some reason you guys won't like this chapter as much. Maybe it's the gay references that are bothering me. Not like that—I'm not homophobic or anything (hell, just the opposite), I just get this feeling that nobody else will not **_**like**_**, but dislike. Rephrase: I have a feeling you guys will highly dislike the gay references. Prove me wrong, please . . . ?**


	3. Acceptance?

**I'm feeling empowered and in the mood to write. But of course you don't care. You came here for an XME fanfic, not my daily story. On with the show!**

So, it turns out math really wasn't that bad. God, my people skills must be getting _really_ off if I keep mistaking "oh, it's the new kid" looks for "cor, let's stab him with pitchforks" looks. I survived math easily. Then I had to deal with pre-AP Creative Writing, which wasn't too bad, we were doing memoirs, and my life is chock full of moments begging to be turned into memoirs. I can list them right now: my birth (including getting thrown off a bridge), my upbringing (in the circus as an acrobat), the time I _ACCIDENTALLY_ killed Stefan (n'aww, the school would censor that and give me counseling—some things are best left as secrets), or maybe the time I found out I was gay (what a day—Pietro still denies the kiss was on purpose).

Gym was pretty easy, we were climbing ropes. So much more lax than a DR session with Logan, and again, the kids _sincerely_ did not mind me. I made a mental note to thank the Professor _profusely_. This was like heaven.

After the bell rang, though, things got ugly as I found out that I can't, in fact, become invisible, or possibly get out to the parking lot without being seen by _somebody_. I met up with Kitty outside her last class, and Amanda joined us in the hall. Kids were giving me very odd and scared looks, but nobody said anything, due to the death glares Kitty and Amanda, linking arms with me, were giving them.

"Finally, Fuzzy." Amanda joked once we got out of the most congested part of the hallway. I grinned at her.

"Is zat a sigh of relief sort of zing, or a sort of "you're finally fuzzy" zing?" I laughed. She thought for a moment.

"Both." She replied.

"I said the same thing, though when Kurt told me he was going to do it, he almost gave me a heart attack—I never thought that a superflyingtacklepounce was humanly possible, but Fuzzy Elf proved me otherwise." Kitty grinned, leaning around me to talk to Amanda.

"Fuzzy Elf? I think I'm gonna be sick." I knew that voice. But it had never talked to me before, only Scott. It was Duncan Matthews. I let go of Amanda and Kitty and turned around to face him.

"You don't like ze nickname?" I asked. He rolled his eyes.

"Puh-lease. No guy should ever have a nickname like "Fuzzy Elf"—but then again, you're not a guy, you're a balless fag." He smirked, his buddies chuckling.

"Big vords for a guy who has to have zree cronies to take on a "veak little German fag," according to you, homophobe." I sneered.

"You wanna turn this into a fight, faggot? We'll see how quickly I get that fuzzy blue ass of yours kicked." He snarled, hands curling into fists.

"It's not a good idea to fight me, Mazzews." I growled.

"Kurt, c'mon, let's go, you don't have to waste your time with this guy," Kitty sneered at Duncan. A circle, unnoticed by the teachers, started forming around us. I was clenching and unclenching my hands rapidly, fighting for my cool.

"You afraid? Gonna get your girlfriends to fight for you, faggot?" Duncan taunted.

"Leave zem out of zis!" I shouted. There was an "ooh" from the crowd. He'd hit a nerve, and I knew it, I gave him that satisfaction. Stupid me.

"Or what? You'll kiss me?" He sneered, and I snapped. I leaped towards him and ducked under his fists, punching his jaw and whirling away, but he'd clipped my side. God, it hurt. I kicked him in the chest and he staggered backwards as his cronies started forwards.

"NO! This is my fight!" he shouted. He tried to step on my feet, but I kept jumping away, landing punches wherever I could. Duncan lunged forward and caught my tail, pulling it as hard as he could. I shrieked as it felt like fire raced up my spine. I teleported out of his grasp and reappeared on his shoulders, grabbing his jaw with both hands and was about to twist it violently, breaking his neck, but didn't, instead snapping it forwards and kicking his back as he fell forwards, face in the mud. I took care to stomp on his spine and kick his ribs as hard as I could, but he grabbed my leg and pulled me down.

By now, we were attracting the teachers' attention, but they couldn't get to us because of the thickness of the crowd. I faintly heard a whistle blowing as Duncan pushed himself up, nose bloody, and grabbed my arm in a crushing grip. I growled at him and he put his hand on my thigh. I froze. He was _not_ doing this to me. No no no no _no!_

He started to push himself onto me, trying to humiliate me, and I brought my knee up.

"_Stop it!"_ I shrieked, reflexively kicking. There was a _snap_ as I broke Duncan's jaw. I teleported out from under him, and the teacher blew his whistle harder, but Duncan got up, looking murderously demented. I wanted to 'port out of there and go cry in a corner.

He punched me hard in the face. I tried to dodge his blows, but he moved faster than I thought. Soon, he had me on the ground again, and was kicking me as hard as he could, each blow sending fire racing through my body. I tried—I really did—I tried to roll away, but the crowd would kick me back into Duncan's range. I heard Kitty and Amanda screaming as Duncan's buddies held them back.

Duncan stomped down on my tail and I convulsed in agony, a silent scream tearing across my face, tears streaming from my eyes. He ground his foot into my tail and I choked.

"_What are you doing to him! ?"_ Was that . . . _Pietro?_ I looked up through tear-blurred eyes and saw a white streak race into the circle and topple Duncan.

"_Back off, Pietro!_" Scott shouted as Duncan got up and rounded on him, and Pietro raced away, dodging the jock's fists, and he rounded on me again. I tried to stand up, but each movement almost killed me with pain. Scott blasted Duncan away as the teacher burst into the circle.

"_Summers!_" he bellowed, rounding on Scott, ignoring me and Duncan. "Do not use your powers in school! Detention, two weeks! Matthews! Get up! Detention for fighting—two weeks! Wagner! Detention for fighting—two weeks! _Now all of you, move on!"_

I felt Kitty and Amanda help me up, and I used them as crutches to limp to the car with Scott, fuming silently, and Jean, looking concerned. Evan had yet to—

"Kurt! What the hell happened? !"

I spoke too soon. Evan showed up with Rogue, who flipped out her cell and dialed Logan. He roared into the parking lot five minutes later, assessed me quickly, put Rogue on the back of his bike, and drove back to the Institute. Scott and Evan lifted me into the backseat, where I leaned heavily on Kitty and Evan, Amanda having to leave for her bus home.

I'm pretty sure Scott broke the speed limit, but I didn't care, hovering on the edge of consciousness in a world of blazing, white hot pain, an inferno in my body that I thought would never end. Tears kept streaming down my face, but I was _waaay_ past embarrassment, past humiliation, too.

Normally, if someone needed to get inside _fast_, I'd teleport them in, but Scott and Evan had to carry me in, rushing me up to the med. wing, where Logan had told Mr. McCoy I was coming, so he was ready.

"This is worse than I thought." He said gravely as they set me down on one of the beds and stepped back. "I'd take him to the hospital, but many of them refuse to treat mutants. I'll see what I can do. Kurt, I'm going to have to sedate you. Are you okay with that?"

"Nnngh," I groaned. Anything that would take away the pain? Completely fine by me. I didn't care as the needle pricked my hand: Mr. McCoy had put in an IV. The sedative knocked me out immediately. Sweet . . . relief . . .

XXX

XXX

When I woke up, seemingly a second later, I heard a constant beeping, and my tongue felt thick and fuzzy, my mouth was dry. Kitty was reading a book on a chair by my bed.

"Keeyeey?" I groaned incoherently. God, I sounded bad. Was that even me? My voice sounded like an elephant with a head cold trying to swallow a slug. Kitty looked up.

"Kurt! How do you feel? Dumb question—you want water?" she asked, rapid-fire. I nodded and she went and filled up a cup of water, handing it to me. I looked down at my hands. One of them was bandaged heavily, and the other arm was in a cast. She saw me look down at my arms and instead raised the cup to my lips and tipped it. The water tasted so good, nevermind it being tepid and chlorine-tasting, I swished it around in my mouth and swallowed it, suddenly able to talk again.

"Vot happened to me?" I asked.

"You were in a fight, but you know that . . . uh, well . . ." Kitty grimaced. "Do you really want to hear it?"

"Oh _Gott._ It's zat bad?" I groaned, suddenly afraid.

"Oh no, no, no! It's not, like, paralysis or anything," she assured me quickly, and I sighed in relief, "it's just, he did a number on you. He broke that arm," she pointed at the one in a cast, "and that hand," she pointed at the bandaged one, "fractured seven ribs," delicately poking at the white bandages around my chest, "dislocated that hip," she pointed to my right hip, not bandaged, "and broke your tail." Indicating my tail, which was heavily wrapped and immobile, hung in a sling. I smiled sadly at that, my tail being in a sling like a broken leg.

"And he ripped your earring out." Kitty said quietly, handing me the earring and a mirror. I looked in the mirror and felt my heart wrench. The lobe of my left ear had been ripped, so it was split down the middle.

"Can he fix it?" I asked hesitantly. Kitty looked at me sadly.

"Not without risk of infection. He said he'd do it if you really wanted it, but he's hesitant. If it gets infected, well . . ." Kitty trailed off. I knew what she meant. Mr. McCoy would have to cut the infected part out of my ear, because it wouldn't be like a normal piercing infection.

"_Gott . . ."_ I groaned quietly. Kitty gently held my non-broken hand.

"I'm so sorry . . . I didn't think to phase out of that guy and help you . . ." I heard a trace of remorse in Kitty's voice, her eyes starting to swim with tears.

"Zere's nozing you could have done, Keety . . . and vot's done is vot's done. At least I'm not paralyzed or vot." I said, looking into her eyes, tears clearing.

"You're right." She said.

"Good to see you're awake, Kurt." Mr. McCoy said, knuckle-walking in awkwardly with a clipboard in one hand, glasses low on his nose. "How do you feel?"

"Probably not nearly as bad as I should feel right now." I smiled.

"That would be the painkillers. Good that they're working. I trust Kitty explained your injuries to you . . . ?" He asked rather uncertainly. Kitty and I both nodded. "Okay."

"About my ear, Herr McCoy . . . ?" I started. Mr. McCoy nodded.

"I can suture it together, if you want, it would be relatively painless, but because of the way it was damaged, there's a pretty good risk of infection." He grimaced.

"I'll take ze risk. Please." I said, almost begging.

"Let me go get some things." He knuckle-walked off and came back with a small needle, almost like a sewing needle, and some black thread, sort of. Kitty moved around to my other side and held my hand as Mr. McCoy looked critically at my ear, pushing his glasses up. "This might hurt a bit."

"Good zing I can't see my ear," I said, wincing as Mr. McCoy pulled my ear together and pushed the needle through. It was no worse than getting it pierced, really, but as he started to sew it together, I found myself wincing more and more, squeezing Kitty's hand.

"Uh, Fuzzy Elf, careful with my hand, please," Kitty winced and I looked down at her hand.

"Sorry." I half-smiled and let go of her hand.

"There. That wasn't so bad, was it?" Mr. McCoy asked, cutting the thread and dabbing gingerly at my ear with a tissue to absorb the tiny pinpricks of blood. "Now keep a careful eye on it. If it gets swollen or starts hurting, tell me immediately."

"_Ja,_ Herr McCoy." I said, admiring his work in the mirror. "Zank you."

"You're welcome, Kurt." Mr. McCoy smiled. "Anything else you need?"

"No, I zink I'm good." I said.

"Right. I'll have to keep you in here for a few days, a week at most, while your tail heals enough so you can move to your own bed or the couch. I would advise against teleporting or trying to move around too much. You might make your injuries worse. Got it?" Mr. McCoy asked me very seriously, looking over his glasses at me.

"Yes, Mr. McCoy." I said seriously.

"Good." His lighter air returned. "Ah. It looks like you have another visitor."

Amanda was standing in the doorway.

"Amanda!" I said, sort of surprised. Her parents were, like, super-strict about her not seeing me again after what happened at her house.

"Hey Fuzzy. How you feeling?" She asked, coming over to me.

"Pretty good." I smiled.

"I'm sorry I can't stay here for too long, 'cause you know, parents and stuff." She apologized.

"It's okay." I said.

"Do you know when you'll be okay to go back to school?" she asked. That opened the flood gates in my head. What would happen when I went back to school? Would they still accept me? Would I have to _move?_ Go back to Germany? ! I didn't want to go back to Germany! No!

"NO!" I echoed my thoughts. Amanda and Kitty looked surprised and slightly scared. "Sorry . . . I'm just zinking about school." I said quickly.

"You okay?" Kitty asked.

"_Ja, ja_. I'm fine." I said dismissively.

"I take it you don't know?" Amanda asked again.

"_Nein,_ I don't." I said apologetically. She nodded.

"Cool . . . well, I'll come by as soon as I can again. See you later, Kurt." She kissed her finger and pressed it to my cheek and left.

Kitty waited for Amanda's footsteps to fade before talking.

"What were you thinking about, Fuzzy?" she asked quietly, looking around for Mr. McCoy, but he was nowhere in sight, at least.

"Vot's going to happen ven I go back to school? Are zey still going to accept me, or vill I have to . . . move, or go back to my image inducer as a different person, use an alias all ze time? I don't vont to live like zat, Keety. I can't live like zat." I said, looking up at her. She suddenly looked troubled.

"I'm sure the Prof. will sort something out. He always does." Kitty said reassuringly. I hoped she was right. Then I remembered.

"I have to zank ze Professor for getting me into such great classes!" I said suddenly. I sat up and Kitty gently pushed me back down onto my pillows.

"I'll thank him for you, don't worry, Fuzzy Elf. Why don't you sleep?" she suggested and I nodded, yawning. She smiled triumphantly at me, giving me a light peck on the forehead and leaving the med. wing. I fell asleep quickly in a deep dreamless sleep.

XXX

XXX

**How you like? Sorry, I had to jazz it up a lil' and that was my best idea. The others were just . . . lame, for lack of a better word. What do you think if I changed the title to "Fuzzy Elf"? Thoughts?**


	4. Just As Good

***sigh* I've just been sitting here getting all depressed about how I have no reviews . . . and wondering how to get reviews. I think it boils down to what people want to read, and I'm apparently not giving what people want to read, and I am deeply saddened by that . . . so here's my solution, which I will restate at the end: you give me a suggestion of what **_**you**_** want to read, and I'll write it.**

After being stuck in the med. wing for two weeks, I was going stir crazy, and the Professor _still_ hadn't come to see me. I banged my head against the pillow in frustration, sighing heavily as I opened my eyes—speak of the devil. The Professor was rolling in the door with a placid smile on his face. I was half angry and half relieved to see him.

"Vy—Couldn't you—so vot—_vot now?.!_" I ground out frustratedly, almost shouting. The Professor continued to smile placidly, infuriatingly. Gott, what was the _matter_ with him?.!

"Hello, Kurt. I realize you must be incredibly frustrated right now." Professor X said.

"No _freaking _duh!" I shouted at him, banging my head against the pillow again.

"Hear me out, Kurt. You're in a very difficult situation right now, and you only have a few options available to you. Though judging by the capacity for foresight you've previously demonstrated to me, I would wager you've realized them." He said, steepling his fingers and looking seriously at me. Yes, the options had most definitely crossed my mind several times. I could go back to using my inducer as a completely different person, or I could just go back the way I was. And that was it. I'd thought them out, but I was too frustrated to think about them again.

"So vot do you vont me to do?" I asked angrily, my tail starting to painfully twitch. Good to know I'd be able to move it if I ever got out of that _Gott verdammt Bett!_

"Since you already know your options, which one would you like to pursue?" the Professor asked, still maddeningly calm. I felt like leaping out of bed and hitting him, or destroying something, or having another crack at Duncan, anything but sitting here.

"_You don't answer qvestions viz qvestions!_" I raged.

"I understand your frustration with immobility—" the Professor started to say, but I cut him off.

"No, you don't! You aren't azletic, you don't know vot it's _like_ to be stuck in zis—" I struggled to keep my language in check, "—_Bett_, like I am! It's horribly _infuriating!_ I vont to do anyzing but sit here and be immobile! I can't take it anozzer day! I'd razzer keel myself zan do zis, do nozing!"

"Kurt, now listen to me." The Professor said sharply, silencing me. "I know _exactly_ what it's like. I was a young man once, I was active, on the track team at school! You have a taste, now, of what I went through when I became paralyzed. You will get out of bed and be mobile again. I will never be able to walk again as long as I live, and that's a fact that I have resigned myself to, much as you have resigned yourself to the fact that you'll never truly be accepted outside of a close group of friends. Don't lecture me about things I "don't understand", Kurt, because I do. And one of the options that I'm giving you is to start fresh. The other option that I'm giving you is to show people you won't be stepped on, that you are your own man. So the question that I'm really asking you is: start new or keep going."

I sat silently and listened to the Professor, and now that the spotlight was on me, I fidgeted uncomfortably. I'd never put it that simply with myself, and the way he said it didn't directly say which one he wanted me to choose, but hinted at it, by not saying anything negative . . . . and suddenly I felt more respect for the Professor, and I felt like I understood him better. Letting my head fall gently back down onto the pillow, I closed my eyes and thought about the options more fully. I _could_ start fresh and new, and that idea was _highly_ appealing to me, though some crazy part of me stood tall and proclaimed, "_You are the Incredible Nightcrawler! Will you let rabble like Duncan walk all over you? No! Stand tall, Nightcrawler!_"

So that's how I found myself saying,

"I'll keep going."

The Professor nodded to me and clapped me on the shoulder. "That's a very good choice, son." And he left the room. I felt more calm than I had in days, and hearing the Professor's story really put it into perspective for me, and I figured a few more days in bed wouldn't kill me. It really wouldn't.

After school, Kitty came in and delivered my load of homework, which I practically pounced on as something remotely brain-engaging to do. "How's my fuzzy invalid doing?" Kitty asked.

"Much better zan I vos zis morning." I said, opening my Bio textbook and setting it across my lap with my notebook on top and a pencil poised in hand.

"Any word on when you're out of here?" Kitty asked conversationally.

"Naw, Herr McCoy hasn't come in here lately, zough I had a talk viz ze Professor, and I don't mind it so much now." I answered truthfully, scribbling down the assignment and starting to read, still listening to Kitty.

"Oh, really? What did he say to tame your ferocious insanity?" she joked.

"Vell, he _is_ confined to a vheelchair for ze rest of his life, so zat kinda puts zings in perspective, no?" I said, cocking an eyebrow at my homework.

"Yeah, good point. Anyways, gotta go. I promised Jean I'd help her give Rogue a makeover." Kitty said, standing up.

"Rogue's letting you give her a _makeover_?" I asked incredulously. My half-sister detested any makeup that did not attribute directly to a sullen Gothic appearance. She also disliked any light or feminine color, and considered chiffon and pearls wastes of matter that could be more productive things—like, say, leather miniskirts and platform boots.

"Nobody ever said it was voluntary." Kitty smiled evilly and left. I rolled my eyes after her and got back to my homework, finishing it all in about an hour.

"Kurt, I have some good news." Herr McCoy announced, walking into the room out of the blue and making me jump. "Did I startle you? Sorry."

"It's fine. So vot's ze good news?" I asked.

"You can officially leave the med. wing. You're free to walk around and go back to school if you want. Your tail's almost finished healing, just don't overuse it. You'll be out of PE for a while with your arm and hand, but your ribs have also healed well. And by the looks of it, your ear has not become infected and you'll be able to wear earrings again, though it may be sore for a little while." Herr McCoy said, a smile splitting his face.

"Really?" I asked incredulously. He nodded. I threw back the covers on the bed and swung my legs over the edge, standing and swaying slightly on the spot. Apparently my balance was off after lying down for so long. I got my legs back and walked up and down the med. wing a few times, a little shakily, then I started laughing with the sheer joy of _locomotion_ again.

"Keep in mind though that you'll have to keep the cast on your arm, but you'll be able to wear a brace on your hand." Herr McCoy pointed out and I nodded.

"Can I go . . . ?" I asked hesitantly.

"You're free to go wherever you want." Herr McCoy made a sweeping gesture towards the door, indicating my freedom. I ran to the door and promptly tripped over the jamb of it, landing sprawled at a surprised Kitty's feet.

"Well hello there," she said, hauling me upright. "Look who got the green card."

"Isn't it great?" I smiled. "Vait- vot about giving Rogue a makeover?" I asked.

"She isn't home." Kitty sighed. "So Where are you going in such a hurry?" she asked.

"My room. I can't _vait_ to get out of zese." I gestured to the white cotton pajamas I'd worn for the past few days.

"Ugh, yeah. Meet you in the rec. room?" Kitty agreed.

"Ten minutes." I said, and dashed off, running down the halls to my room and changing into a pair of khaki cargos and a flannel button-down with the sleeves rolled up and a white tee on underneath. In other words, my normal outfit.

I met up with Kitty in the rec. room and she stood from the couch once I'd gotten to her.

"Hey, everybody, listen up. Kurt's going back to school!" Kitty announced, and they all clapped, looking up from their books/computers/newspapers/stuff. I took a theatrical bow, feeling as elated as when I'd first announced I'd be going to school without my inducer.

XXX

Saturday, the day after I got out of the med. wing, I begged Scott to let me take his car over to the Brotherhood house. Grudgingly, he agreed, muttering threats about causing Lance as much violent bodily harm as Duncan had caused to me if he so much as _looked_ at his car. I gladly drove over the speed limit, feeling the wind in my hair was wonderful, though I had to slow down as I entered town and made my way over to the Brotherhood house.

I knocked on the door, which Toad answered a few moments later. "What you want, X-Geek?" he asked.

"Pietro in?" I asked.

"'Tro? It's Fuzzy." He called over his shoulder and hopped away as Pietro whizzed to the front door.

"What do you want?" he asked, not rudely.

"I'm out of the hospital." I said, smiling hopefully.

"Yeah, and?" Pietro said, rudely this time.

"Just thought you'd like to know I'd be in school on Monday." I said nonchalantly, covering up for how I was feeling a little crushed.

"Cool." Pietro said flatly.

"Guess I'll see you Monday." I said, turning away. In my peripheral vision, I saw Pietro still standing at the door, deliberating over something.

"Hey, Fuzzy!" He called.

"Yeah?" I turned around, suppressing a smile.

"Sorry I didn't do anything to stop Matthews." He said, looking down at the ragged doormat.

"It's okay." I smiled.

"Yeah . . ." Pietro said, clearly torn between doing two things. I tilted my head slightly and watched him as he came towards me, unsure of himself. He closed his eyes and looked like he was about to kiss me, but instead ruffled my hair and whizzed away, the door slamming shut in his wake.

"Just as good." I murmured, smiling hugely as I hopped in the car and drove home.

XXX

**Forgive me, it's a sinfully short chapter, but I have more than half a mind to be mopey and depressed over my lack of reviews on, like, EVERYTHING and the fact that I just watched a not-really-amv about Nightcrawler's death, courtesy of OneOddVeronicaAndKat (thanks again, I see what you mean about heartbreaking T-T). And, as I said at the top, I figure the best way to get reviews is to write what people want to see, so review and tell me what story you'd like me to write/what story you'd like me to update. **

**Thanks! Love,**

**Iris Musicia**


	5. Salvage from Sin

**I haven't updated this in a while (since freshman year, I now be a junior, good God!), and this chapter might be a little awkward as I get back into it. **

The events of the day had calmed my nerves as my thoughts turned to school, as I knew they would. I'd been out for two and a half (going on three) weeks now, and people would be wondering, at least, and maybe still talking, though I hoped sincerely that it had blown over by now. I found Kitty in the bathroom with Rahne, Jubilee, and Jean. Rogue was being held down by Rahne, having her makeup applied by Jean, hair done by Kitty, and Jubilee pondering her outfit.

"Ah, man, girls, you really meant it vhen you said makeover!" I said, smiling at my half-sister as I came around in front of her.

"Kurt, please, get me outta here," Rogue said, earning a glare from Jean as she messed up the lip liner.

"I'm very sorry, Rogue, but . . . you're asking ze wrong person to spring you. Maybe Logan, but he vouldn't touch you viz a zirty nine and a half foot pole at zis point." I said apologetically, but the smile on my face betrayed the fact that I was thoroughly enjoying this cruel and unusual form of torture.

"Brothas are s'posed ta hate this sorta stuff." Rogue muttered.

"But _gay_ brozzers are supposed to love zis sort of stuff. And I subscribe to zat philosophy, to a degree." I amended. "Keety, vhat can I do to help?"

"Hm?" Kitty looked up from Rogue's hair. "Oh . . . you can help Jubie with the outfit."

"Vonderful." I turned to Jubilee.

"I was thinking we could do a pink thing," she started, "and I have the most wonderful pink Oxford shirt, but I think it's too small for her."

"Zen who's Rogue's size? Ve could borrow from zeir closet." I suggested. Jubilee nodded.

"Rogue, honey, what's your size?" she asked sweetly, leaning around me and Jean. If looks could kill, Jubilee would've been six feet under.

"She's about my size, I think." Jean answered, picking out a good shade of lip stick for my half-sister. Jubilee thanked Jean and we 'ported down to Jean's room and started rifling through her wardrobe. Ten minutes later, we ended up with a baby-blue fitted Oxford-style shirt with a light purple camisole underneath, and a lacy white mid-thigh skirt complemented by white ballet shoes (but only God would've known Jean had that stuff, it was so deeply hidden in her closet).

We returned to the bathroom to find Rogue looking oddly un-Gothic, though she had her Death Stare on, fit to commit massacre. Kitty had left her hair down and curled it lightly, and I left so the girls could unceremoniously shove her into the clothes. When she emerged with her very happy entourage, I wouldn't have thought I was looking at Rogue if not for the stripe in her hair. My eyes widened reflexively.

"It's that bad, huh? They wouldn' let me look in a mirra." Rogue said sullenly. I shook my head fervently.

"No, no, it's not zat! You look so . . . _human_." The girls laughed, and even Rogue cracked a smile. "Logan's going to adore your new style."

"What is it with you an' the Logan jokes on me?" Rogue asked as we frog-marched her forcibly downstairs to the kitchen.

"I svear, zat man zinks he's your and Keety's fazzer." I said in a stereotypically flamboyant way. Kitty looked genuinely surprised, as did Rogue. "Vot? You didn't know? Gosh." Now _I_ was surprised. I'd thought it was totally obvious, the way Logan went easier on the two than anyone else, how he gave them more favors, and didn't yell at them as much.

"Learn something new every day," Jubilee said sagely. Finally, we reached the kitchen and found it abandoned. Where was Logan? Suddenly, a sharp noise caught my hearing, though none of the girls noticed.

"He's back. He voz out on his bike." I stated, pulling Rogue's arm as I started towards the door. Logan entered the mansion with the Polaroid visor of his helmet (completely superfluous, but he still wore it—what a good role model) shading his face, so we couldn't see his expression, but by the way he stopped dead and stood stock-still, it was a look of shell-shocked surprise on his face.

"Five bucks says he asks if it's Rogue." Kitty whispered in my ear. I nodded, but from my other side, Rahne commented,

"No, five on Logan getting concerned that Rogue was dying." I frowned slightly, but nodded. Logan unfroze and took his helmet off, squinting at Rogue even though his vision was perfect.

"Rogue . . . Stripes . . . is that—what the hell happened to you?" he asked. Kitty sighed softly and handed five ones to Rahne. Rogue stood still, eyes following Logan as he walked around her, frowning at her, look becoming one more of horror. "Are you okay? Sick or s'mmat?"

Kitty handed another five to Rahne. I didn't get their style of betting, but it seemed to be working for Rahne, though Kitty didn't look to pleased to be ten dollars down.

"No . . . they attacked me." Rogue glared accusingly at all of us. Logan turned to us, face expressionless.

"Good job, y'all." And he walked away, leaving everyone staring open-mouthed at his retreating form. Then we started laughing, though I could tell Rogue wasn't amused.

"Y'know, what if ah had a date or s'm'thin' t'night, and y'all killed me like this? Y'd ruin mah life!" Rogue said angrily, trying to muster Gothic dignity, but failing, making us laugh harder. Part of me held sympathy for my half-sister's plight, but the majority of me was too busy enjoying it to act on the sympathy. She grumbled something under her breath, turned, and stomped away, though it wasn't as impressive as when she stomped wearing her combat boots (those shook the floor—the ballet shoes made soft little _mph mph mph_ noises as she smashed the stairs. Her feet would hurt later, I could tell).

"Actually . . ." Kitty started, recovering first, "that wouldn't be a bad idea . . . feminize her before a date . . . ?"

"Quick, somevone go find her diary!" I interjected, giggling. Just then, Scott appeared from upstairs, his timing impeccable as usual.

"O-okay . . ." he muttered, eyes wide behind his shades as he observed us, Jean especially, with tears rolling down her cheeks, shoulders shaking. He almost ran back upstairs and I sobered up, brushing my fingers along the cast on my arm and fighting my train of thought as it started to steer down the "school" path, but the Mental Express was a juggernaut, and I was a bug to stop it, unless I distracted myself.

I 'ported up to my room and plopped down in the middle of the room, sitting there and looking vaguely around like a toddler. My room was pretty light, and big, and had a chandelier, French doors out onto a balcony, a wardrobe, a bed, and a dresser. Otherwise barren, and a lovely shade of cat-puke orange. I tilted my head to one side, regarding the room for a second before crawling over to the wardrobe on impulse. I only had a few outfits, so it wasn't hard to pick out a nice look for Monday.

Monday. Enter the school track of the Express, part two. Isn't there a theory that states everything always returns to one subject? Something about Hitler? School was my Hitler, and a harsh master. It governed my time, thoughts, and future ruthlessly, and there was nothing I could do about it, short of dropping completely out of the eyes of society.

I was so tired of feeling like I was trapped—so tired. I needed some form of escape, but I knew none. Well, that was a lie. I did know one, but it was unhealthy, detrimental: Pietro. I really liked him. I loved being around him and missed him when he was gone, though I'd never tell him that. He'd sooner beat me six ways 'till Sunday than have any sort of affectionate contact with me again. The kiss had been an accident, but I would be pushing it to hope for another hair-ruffle.

Discontented, I spent the rest of the day in the rec. room, playing _Bioshock 2_ with Evan.

XXX

When my alarm went off, I sat bolt upright in bed. I'd been awake for over an hour. I'd sat up all night, tossing and turning restlessly because of a wiggling doubt uncomfortable in my gut. Maybe I'd managed three or four hours of sleep, if I was lucky, but I figured I would crash before lunch. Evan noticed at breakfast.

"Dude, you okay?" he asked. I had figured I looked decent in the mirror this morning, but apparently not. Reactively, I reached up to smooth my hair. "No, not your hair. You're acting weird."

"Oh, yeah," I muttered, "I'm a leetle preoccupied . . ."

"With what?"

"Stuff. Ze normal teenage angst routine. You know," I shrugged, hoping he'd get my drift and drop it. No such chance.

"No, I don't know. 'Sup?"

"I don't vont to go back and see Duncan again. I'm afraid he'll do somezing to me again." I kept quiet about Pietro.

"The admin gave him a real beating. They had this big anti-fighting assembly the day after. Nobody's gonna mess with you. 'Specially after what you did to Duncan. Yeah, he messed you up bad, but you definitely gave him some souvenirs to think about." Evan chuckled.

I sighed and pushed away from the table, leaving the room before Evan could say anything more. That was _just_ what I wanted, to be feared or looked at oddly—well, even more oddly than already. I couldn't lose sight of my confidence, though, so I didn't allow fear into my mind. That's how I found myself sitting in the front seat of Scott's car, Jean relegated to the backseat with "the commoners." I was a war hero to my teammates, and that wasn't really what I wanted, but it was better than "scary mutie freak."

Kitty walked with me through the halls, and we had fifteen minutes before the bell for first period would ring, so we paced through the halls. I was worried about seeing Duncan, so my head was constantly swiveling until Kitty grabbed my earlobe, pulling my head down to hiss in my ear,

"You really need to calm down, elf. Duncan won't do anything to you, there's too many witnesses."

I was about to reply that that fact didn't stop him last time, but I wasn't able to. Kitty let go of my ear suddenly and I stood straight to see Duncan in front of me. He had the remnants of a black eye, a butterfly bandage across his nose, and a wrist in a brace. I did that? Dear Lord.

"Excuse me," I said, looking down at the floor and attempting to move around him. He blocked me.

"We've got some unfinished business, fag." He sneered down at me.

"You really vont me to break your nose again? Because I vill. Maybe I'll make it crooked this time, so zat'll give your girlfriend somezing to gawk at. Add character to your ugly face." I bit out, lips twitching into a snarl, revealing my fangs. He seemed taken aback at my canines but continued.

"I wouldn't be so cocky if I were you. Oh, wait, I forgot—you're a cock lover. Silly me," Duncan put on a falsetto voice and curtseyed like a girl, giving me an evil glare.

"For such a big man, you seem awfully zreatened by ze fact zat I'm not like you. Are you afraid of me?" I asked slyly, baring my fangs again and lashing my tail hard enough so that it made a sharp swishing noise.

"Why the hell would I be afraid of you? I don't care about _you_, a gay mutie freak. Fuck off, faggot." Duncan shoved into me and stormed down the hall. I felt a growl building in my chest, but choked it down before anybody heard. I looked away from his retreating letterman jacket to see Kitty giving me a cold glare that sent chills down my spine.

"Wow. That was a very impressive performance, Mr Wagner," she said with a slow clap, voice dripping sarcasm, "so have you just completely forgotten what Professor X's mission is, or would you like to join Magneto now? Maybe then you could be with Pietro."

My stomach dropped. Kitty was my best friend, and the only person aside from me and Pietro who knew about our "relationship," and here she was using it against me. I didn't know whether to be furious or apologize profusely on my knees. I opened my mouth a couple of times, ineffectually, then hung my head, jammed my hands into my pockets, and stalked off to go sulk in my first period class. I was so miffed that I didn't even hear Kaylie say "good morning" when I walked in, slouched over to my seat, and glared at the wall for ten minutes. Kaylie shrugged and went back to texting.

xXx

The day passed in a blur, my senses dulled by the "fight" I had with Kitty. Really, the fight was in my head and I was agonizing over nothing, but at dinner Kitty refused to acknowledge my existence, and was it just me, or was the atmosphere unbearable? After the green beans had been passed around a second time, I looked down at my barely-touched plate, feeling sick, and excused myself quietly. I took my stuff into the dark kitchen, and 'ported up to my room.

I looked around at my room and it was stifling, too. My whole body itched and fidgeted. I felt like I was going insane. I had to move, I had to escape my skin. I had to escape my guilt.

I 'ported up to the roof and looked up at the stars above me. They were obscured by clouds and light pollution from Bayville. My body convulsed violently, maniacally, terrifyingly. I found a long, broken wail tearing from my throat raggedly, echoing off the trees, reflecting my misery back at me, amplified. Then the wail formed a word: why.

Why was everything going so wrong? Why couldn't I win? Why did all my friends seem to hate the way I just _am_? Why was I born this way? Wretched, cursed, disfigured, hated.

I wanted to jump, fly, run, get away from everything that reminded me of something—of where I'd been, who knew me, who I was. I wanted to forget everything and be Locke's _tabula rasa_, knowing nothing but what experience printed on my putty, infant brain. I didn't know anything, I didn't feel anything, I didn't realize anything.

Until I was falling.

The air was cold and biting and shocked me back to my senses. I was too close to the ground, and it was too eager to meet me. My mind was stunned—how had this happened? I hadn't told it to happen, I hadn't authorized it.

Yet it was.

Then the thought occurred to me: I am going to die.

But I wasn't panicked. No. I was calm. It was a rational thought, and, for a beautiful moment, I understood everything. Things were not bleak. It was not the end of the world. There was always another option. There was always an apology. There was always a future. There was no reason for death.

Yet it was.

Then the thought occurred to me: I do not want to die.

Now I was panicked. Yes. I was frenzied. It was a rational thought, and I felt only terror and understood that death was not for me, but it would happen. It was the end of the world. There was no other option. There was only gravity and concrete. There would be no future. But still, there was no reason for death.

I closed my eyes and tried to welcome God in my final moments so maybe, just perhaps, I could be saved; I could be salvaged from the wreck of sinful suicide.

Yet it was . . . nothing.

xXx

xXx

xXx

xXx

**This chapter has been three years in the making, so I hope you all are grateful! Only the last part from Kurt's sulking to suicide are the product of 11****th****-grade Iris, so you might see a major change in tone and voice. A lot has happened in three years, and I've been particularly philosophical as an old friend of mine attempted suicide just a few days ago. There has been a lot of contemplation of life. There has been no understanding. **

**So, sorry to leave the chapter on such a bleak note, but for dramatic purposes, nothing beats a cliché, y'know? And, of course, the cliché goes that he will survive. I don't have enough time to be original and defeat the Cliché-Monster, so I'll let it have this one. Just no more hospitals for poor Kurti, he's suffered enough pain. Perhaps his unintentional "suicide" will bring him back to his senses. It had better damn well do it, or I don't know what will. **

**I know this is dragging on, but bear with me. In light of this being my junior year (famed for its difficulty and sleep deprivation), I will have **_**zero**_** time to work on any sort of fan fiction. This was a file I found on my computer and tacked a couple hundred words onto. Do not expect any more chapters or new stories any time soon. I'm sorry to be so plain, but this is just in case you didn't see the big, bold "INDEFINITE HIATUS" sign on my profile. **

**Anyways, I hope this chapter finds all my readers in good health; I would not wish anything worse upon you.**

**Sincerely,**

**Iris Musicia**


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